Two Teachers and a Doctor Walk Into a Hall
by c1araoswa1d
Summary: Tumblr Whouffle Prompt: Something with the twelfth doctor. Maybe something that goes along with the rumors of a new love interest for Clara, and the Doctor getting quite a bit grumpy about it?


He lands the Tardis at her school, discretely, somewhere between the bleachers and the parking lot and when he peers out, he finds the field empty; knows that it's nearing the end of classes and everyone would be busy packing up for the day – no one would notice a giant blue police box or the man who emerged from it, giving his suit a once over with his hands, smoothing away wrinkles and stray particles he might have collected from the exploding volcano he'd just left. The Doctor pushes his hands into his pockets and casually strolls across the grass, smile beginning to light up his face at the thought of surprising her during the last bell. When she looks up to call that final announcement at students rushing towards the door and she forgets everything in her head because he's standing there, leaned against the door, waiting.

And she gives him that smile.

The one reserved for him; the one that comes with a long intake of breath and the knowledge that they're about to head off on another adventure together. The one he thinks about while he's not with her and concentrates on when he thinks he might lose himself in a battle. Clara Oswald's smile would be the thing that graces some villain with mercy because it's what she would do, if given the opportunity.

His timing is off though, as it usually is, and the bell rings shrilly just as he reaches the back door, pulling it up and being greeted by a rush of students. They move around him with little attention, assuming he's a teacher or a counselor, or some visitor of no consequence to them and they move around him like fish in a stream. The thought amuses him and he watches them shout and laugh and text, all busy with some nonsense of school aged children that fascinates him because he understands these children – these minds – would someday be guiding the world he visits so regularly and he begins to wonder if any one of them would end up by his side.

The Doctor is so lost in the thought that he slows his steps as he considers it and when he glances up, he sees the familiar top of her head, between the crowd of youngsters at an age where some are beginning to pass her height, entering the hall… followed by a fellow he's never seen before. A younger fellow, pristinely kept, and chuckling shyly down at her as he leans into the door to her class, hand coming up to gesture as he speaks to her.

Another teacher.

His forward momentum comes to a halt as he begins to see her more clearly now, the wave of students thinning as the seconds tick by and he can see her laughing. Her body bends towards the man and she playfully taps his knuckles with the back of her hand before it drops away and she grips at the eraser she's holding tightly in her hand. A sure sign of the hidden anxiety the conversation is causing – but it's not from a lack of wanting to talk to the man, the Doctor knows, it's the nervous side-effect of a burgeoning crush and it stops his hearts.

Because he's entering his phone number into her phone and she's nodding in agreement, checking her watch and then gesturing at him. Because he's tugging at his coal colored jacket and the baby blue shirt underneath and she's looking down at the boots she's worn to work – discussing clothes and something else that makes her touch her hand to her stomach and make a face of satisfaction. Because they're making dinner arrangements as the last of the students pushes past the Doctor.

Because she's offering this man _his_ smile.

Turning slowly, he drops his head and makes his way to the back doors just as he hears her call his name, but he pretends he hasn't heard and he gives the handle a rough shove, wincing when the afternoon sun blinds him. He picks up his pace, hearing her again, and he imagines she's shuffling over the grass behind him as he rounds the bleacher and pushes his key into the lock, twisting to close it only to find her standing there, out of breath and shaking her head up at him in confusion.

"I was calling you," she utters.

"Sorry," he snaps, "New ears," he flicks at them, "Maybe a bit hard of hearing."

He trudges into the Tardis and she follows, slowly, eyeing him curiously before glancing back at the school one last time, then closes the door. "You alright?"

"Just peachy," he tells her with a fake grin and a hand on the console.

Clara comes slowly to stand across from him and she's staring, she's examining, she's considering, and she's coming to conclusions – he can see it on her face. But she ignores it and asks quietly, "So, Doctor, where are we going?"

"Suppose you're going home," he shrugs, "Looks like you had plans for the evening – wouldn't want to get in the way of that."

"What?" Clara manages, shifting two steps around the console to her right to get a better look at the flustered expression on his face as he glances up at her and then turns away.

"Need to take her to the rift anyways; escaping an erupting volcano took a bit out of the old girl." He waves, "Next Wednesday, if you're not too busy."

"What…" Clara begins again, then finishes roughly, "Is wrong with you?"

The Doctor takes a long breath and flippantly waves a hand at her, "Off you pop, go have your date."

She's biting her bottom lip, brow knotted together in contemplative anger and when she finally turns sharply and storms out, the Doctor immediately swings the Tardis into the vortex, head falling back as his eyes close because he knows, instantly, that he'd been an idiot. He was getting quite good at being an idiot around her, he understands, and he also imagines it's only a matter of time before she wasn't smiling for him at all. So when the phone rings, only a moment later, he's surprised to hear her voice on the line when he finally picks up.

"Hello, Doctor?" The Tardis tells him she's a few hours after he'd left; in a secluded spot near a row of restaurants and shops, and when she exhales it's shaky and hesitant.

His jealousy slips away as he grips the phone, other hand already working on the controls to take him back to her, and says quietly, calmly, "Hello, Clara."

"if it's not too much trouble," she begins sheepishly, sounding as though she were debating what she was about to say, "if it's not too much trouble, could you come and get me."

He laughs, a soft chuckle he hears her mirror, and he nods, eyes closed, to tell her, "Already there."

A moment later, the door opens and she steps inside and he can't help the way he straightens at the sight of her standing just at the edge of the circular console area. Her hair is pinned up, make-up just a bit more elaborate than it usually was, and she wore a dark blue dress he'd never seen. One that hid just underneath a jacket and hugged to her body.

"Sorry," he gestures, dropping his head when he realizes he'd been staring and when he glances back up to meet her eye, her lips – ones that had been set in an anxious line when she'd entered – broke into a radiant smile that erupts into a welcoming laugh as she hops towards him, coming to stop at his side to bump him lightly, asking in a hushed voice,

"Where are we off to, Doctor?"

"What about your date?" He questions curiously.

She looked him over and shrugs, telling him assertively, "I'm on my date."

The Doctor smirks as she waits, one eyebrow rising slowly on her face along with the hopefulness in her eyes and while he knows there's something bothering her – something having to do with him; something having to do with the date she's obviously left behind – he offers a mischievous look she giggles at, and he throws them back into the vortex.


End file.
